Expectant
by BriannaTheStrange
Summary: When baby Merida becomes ill, Elinor recalls the countless instances of failure when she and Fergus try to have a child, and the challenges along the way. Rated T to be safe.


**A/N: Hello! So. I have a headcanon for you all: I've noticed that in the prologue, Elinor and Fergus look relatively the same as they do in the rest of the movie. Wrinkles and grey hair. Especially Elinor, who still has that grey streak. Was that a result of stress? I think maybe Elinor had trouble getting pregnant, which (when combined with stress) took them a long time and resulted in their 'older' appearances when Merida was young.**

**PLEASE NOTE that this fanfic goes over some issues that some people may find upsetting (baby-related things). This is why I gave it a T rating. Things get happier towards the end, mind you! Enjoy!**

* * *

Elinor bolted upright in her and Fergus' bed.

It was the dead of night in Castle Dunbroch and all was not well. The sound of tiny coughs between sobbing coming from the cradle in their room instantly awakened the queen from her sleep. The cradle was on Elinor's side of the bed, so she was able to quickly light a candle and approach it.

"Oh, my wee darlin'? Wot's wrong, lamb?" She looked downward and could see her tiny, squirming daughter in a fretful bundle at the bottom of the cradle. The infant's fiery red locks spilled out at her side, and her face was only a few shades lighter. This worried the queen deeply. Carefully, she pressed a delicate hand to her child's forehead and instantly began to panic. Fever. That was not a good sign.

Elinor tore herself away and quickly shook her husband awake. "Fergus! Wake up!" she worriedly demanded as she fought to control her voice. "S-somethin' is wrong with her!"

The king muttered something before shifting under the covers. "Mrphf..mm..w-wot? Wot's happenin'?" he yawned tiredly as he rolled to face her. "Wot's wrong wit' who?"

"The baby," she managed to choke out as she tugged on his shirt incessantly. "I-I don't know wot et is but she's—she's sick, Fergus!"

Seeing his wife in such a frightened state made Fergus instantly get up and come to her side. "Calm down, Eli." he cooed as they both turned to face their little girl, placing his hands upon the railing. Just by a glance he could tell something was terribly wrong with their newborn daughter, but he must keep calm. "Now, wot's wrong?

Merida, the new princess of DunBroch, was only a few weeks old. Born healthy as any baby can be, the couple was beyond ecstatic and relieved. However, she was still very much susceptible to any number of infant illnesses. They preferred to not ponder the possibilities of this happening, but tried their hardest to protect their delicate girl from harm. Elinor was especially protective of the fiery redhead, and would not let her precious princess leave her sight. However, it had not been enough.

Elinor placed a hand atop his as she stared anxiously downward at the weeping baby. "S-she wos coughin' an' cryin', Fergus. Et woke me, so—so I felt her forehead an' she wos burnin' up." Her free hand tightly gripped the railing as the infant let out another bought of coughing.

The king cast a troubled glance at Elinor, feeling her intense fright. Remaining composed for his beloved wife, he rested a giant paw gingerly on Merida's forehead. He slowly pulled his hand away as a grim sense of alarm pulsed through his body. "Aye…fever," he rumbled quietly as his mind raced with thoughts.

Freeing both hands, Elinor gently removed the fragile bundle and cradled her softly against her chest. "N-now, now, my dear little Merida," she whispered as the baby hiccupped her tiny sobs away into Elinor's breast. "You'll—you'll be alright. Mummy's got you. Shhhh. Mummy's here."

Merida, her blue eyes squeezed shut, murmured fretfully and dug her clumsy fingers into the fabric of her mother's nightgown for protection, as well as relief from her sickness. The act caused Elinor to hold her tiny girl even closer, placing a kiss atop her orange locks. Slowly, the baby's sobbing subsided into occasional coughs and sniffles. Regretfully, Elinor carefully placed the newborn back within the security of her cradle.

Fergus gently leaned in towards Elinor as she placed a hand over her mouth. "Darlin', don't fret. She's a strong one." Turning his face so as to place a comforting kiss upon her cheek, he discovered small tears forming at the corner of her glistening eyes. He paused and watched them roll down her cheeks and off her chin, until she finally squeezed her gaze shut.

"Elinor…don't…don't cry," The king couldn't bear to see his beloved wife in tears, and this sight made his heart ache with sorrow. "Et'll…et'll be alright."

Instantly, Elinor shook her head and stared at her husband. There was a certain fire to her brown eyes—one that shook Fergus to the core. "_An' wot if et's _not_, Fergus?! Wot then?!_" she challenged, tears streaming down her face. "_Wot d' you expect me tae do if we lose her?! I-I can't do this anymore, Fergus! I…I jus' c-can't!_" She paused, staring at him with her chest heaving from heavy breaths. Her now red eyes stared straight into her husband's for several tense heartbeats. Suddenly, she turned away and walked to the opposite corner of the room, covering her face with her hands. "I….I jus' _can't_."

Everything was quiet for what seemed like forever. Merida coughed and murmured occasionally.

"Elinor, I…" he began, searching desperately for the right words. "We…we _won't_ lose her."

Elinor, her back towards him, shook her head slowly. "How d'you know?" She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyelids shut. "I…I jus' _knew_ et wos too good tae be true—tae 'ave a child of mine survive."

It was true. So many times did the king and queen experience the crushing disappointment of losing a child—none of which, until now, had survived long in the outside world.

* * *

Elinor was thrown back into the past.

Early in their marriage, which was now many years ago, the couple tried desperately to have a child, but to no avail. They tried countless times to conceive, but it seemed as if their dream of parenthood would never become a reality.

Of course, this all changed when the queen did manage to conceive a baby. After many years of failure, everything was falling into place. There would be an heir and the kingdom would live on. However, approximately three months into her pregnancy, this idea of a family came crashing down upon her.

She awoke in her bed one morning to a hot sensation. Throwing back the covers, it was plain to see what had become of their child—a plentiful amount of rich scarlet stained the fabric of her gown and sheets. At first Elinor denied it. Perhaps it was just a nightmare, or it was all part of a normal pregnancy. After so much denial, the crushing realization dawned upon her. She spiraled deep into herself, not letting anyone break through the horror and torment she harbored.

Fergus tried so desperately to console her—to tell her it would be alright. The queen shut herself off from the world. She found a dark room in the recesses of the castle and stared at her drained reflection in a small mirror. What had she done wrong? She'd listened to the advice and instructions she had been given from the nursemaids. She'd been exceedingly cautious in what she consumed, as well as her activity level—she never did anything strenuous or something she was remotely uncomfortable with. The queen thought she had done everything right… And yet this happened.

Finally coaxed from her anguish, Elinor slowly began to come to terms with this experience. It happened to many women, and she was definitely not the first nor last. It took quite a few months until she and Fergus tried once again. This pregnancy went on without complication for several months, but once again ended in failure. She experienced the familiar crushing sense of suffering and abundance of denial that made her retreat back into the darkness—but yet again allowed herself to be gradually persuaded out.

Again and again, the couple experienced overwhelming disappointment. Instances of failure came one by one as the months elapsed into continuous years. Her hair began to grey from stress and her face grew fatigued. Fergus grew greyer, as well.

Elinor had not forgotten the number of times they were unsuccessful—whether it be miscarriages or just failure to conceive. She went over the numbers in her head while she had a moment alone. When she was not busied with her royal obligations, she would often retreat back into the dark room deep in the castle and ponder her reflection. During these times, she would feel the increasing longing for a child as the numbers and emotions ran through her head.

Why did this keep happening to her? Was she forever doomed to never be a mother, to never know the sensation of hearing a newborn's cry, or hold her breathing child close? What had she done to deserve this? These questions and countless others plagued her mind each and every day.

Fergus felt this ache as well. The king would sit alone sometimes and think about the pain his wife has endured—both physically…but mostly emotional. Was it him? Was he to blame for the suffering he had put his lovely Elinor through? He prayed that one day everything will be fine. He tells her this over and over. She would smile softly and stare into his eyes, nodding gradually, but he knew better than to know she was convinced. The queen would try her best to mask the hurt she felt whenever the subject was brought up, and she often did it well. However, Fergus would sometimes hear her sobbing alone in a room as he listened to the door, or be awaked at night by her weeping. He pretended not to hear, knowing fully that she would be too proud to admit her feelings directly to him.

Finally, after a few years of contemplation since her last loss, Elinor decided it was once again time to try. The nurses and physicians assured Elinor that she was unable to carry full-term, but her decision was final. Fergus was very much surprised to hear her request, and wondered if this was the right thing to do. Perhaps these countless amounts of failure had driven Elinor to the edge—a place where her thoughts were lost and the reality of the situation was nonexistent—but she convinced him that she wanted to try one last time.

* * *

It had been several months and no conflict with her pregnancy had arisen. Slowly but surely, energy begins to progressively make its way back into the queen. Her eyes brighten with each passing milestone. Fergus is supportive of his wife, always keeping a watchful eye over her. Each morning he takes her gently by the hand and inquires about her. For the first few months, she would be unsure about her progress with him. Now she began to grow positive and treat his questions with a loving smile and enthusiasm.

The physicians were surprised as no complaints arose from their queen, though she visited them more often than normal for frequent check-ups which she insisted upon. With each examination, she was assured that everything was fine and going smoothly, which resulted in a sigh of relief from her. However, she tried her best to not hold her breath. Though she had never come this many months into pregnancy without losing her child, she did not wish to get her hopes up…yet.

In the passing months, Elinor grew more and more rounded in her abdominal region, as well as other parts of her body. Her once slim frame had swelled in areas she, nor the king, had known would. She would often catch him staring at her and give him a quick swat on the arm to tell him this was not appropriate in public. They still had to run a kingdom and he could not be distracted. Elinor would become distracted, too. The thought that a child was growing within her body caused the queen to frequently find her eyes moistening. Her hormones raging, she was not quite sure what was happening to her these days. She'd never experienced anything like this.

Day by day, she rounded. A blush returned to her soft cheeks with each positive landmark, and her outlook continued to brighten. It was approximately her fifth month when Elinor began to feel different and experienced a strange sensation she was not familiar with.

One night, she and Fergus sat in bed. Her husband was reading a book about infants—one he had read several times over the past years. Elinor was sewing together a small garment as she sat up in bed, humming a soft lullaby to her unborn kin. Suddenly, her needle slipped and pricked her figure.

"Ow!" she muttered, placing her finger in her mouth before examining it. She never slipped with her needle.

Fergus glanced over towards her. "Heh, prick yerself, love?" he chuckled. "Maybe yer loosin' yer touch at sewin'."

"_No_." Elinor growled, setting her knitting down on the sheets beside her. "I jus'…slipped up some'ow. I mean, I didnae _make_ my hands move the way they did."

"Maybe yer jus' tired, is all." Fergus set his book down and leaned in towards his queen, giving her a loving peck upon her cheek.

Elinor was about to concur with him, when she felt a strange fluttering sensation inside her. Was it her stomach rumbling? No. It was different. Gradually she placed a hand upon her abdomen and waited for several long moments with Fergus looking onward in a perplexed manner. Finally, she felt it again—but stronger this time. A small kick moved her hand away from her belly. She instantly turned to Fergus and stared at him with absolute astonishment.

Fergus looked wide-eyed at his astonished wife. "W-wot? Wot is et, Elinor?" he stammered with total bewilderment.

In an instant, Elinor pulled his hand and placed it directly against her swollen midsection. He waited, staring at his palm. Then he felt it—the magical sensation of an unborn baby's kick. "I-is that…?" he wondered, his blue gaze widening to its full extent.

The queen's charming face brightening with excitement, she nodded slowly. "Et…et mus' be." Her voice was filled with marvel and wonderment as her eyes moved from her stomach to her husband.

"El…Eli." he murmured, tearing his eyes away and staring into hers. "Can ye believe et? Our baby. Et's…alive."

A smile slowly crossed her blushed face as she slowly set her hands atop his, which still resided upon her rounded belly. "Aye," she whispered quietly.

Fergus jumped as an even stronger kick fluttered against his palm. His joyful laughter boomed throughout the room and caused Elinor to giggle. "Cheeky, ain't et?" he chortled, his eyes squinting as his grin grew. "A pure miracle in the makin'."

Elinor looked back towards her husband, admiring his excited face. Never had she thought she would feel this—the sensation of something alive within her. It made her heart soar with possibilities. She and Fergus had come so far together. He supported her every step of the way—through denial and despair; through joy and celebration.

However, as her eyes wandered back down to her midsection, a familiar sense of uncertainty washed over her. Though she had never come this far in her pregnancy and never before felt the sensation of a living child that she harbored, this feeling of the unknown lingered in her heart. Anything could still happen. She, nor her child were safe from whatever fate had in store.

She prayed her unborn kin had a fighting chance.

* * *

Four months later, the day Elinor had been hoping for, as well as dreading, approached. She awoke in the night to forceful kicking from her child. The queen tried to sleep it off, for she was now often used to being awakened by their baby. However, this particular instance was much worse than any occasion she had experienced before. She sat up and clutched her stomach, instantly awakening Fergus. She sobbed as a bolt of pain shot up her spine and spread itself throughout her like a ripple upon the water.

He quickly scrambled from the room and awakened the midwife and physicians, bringing the entire pack of them back to their bedchamber. Elinor lay in an exhausted bundle amongst the sheets, groaning. The sight nearly caused the king to jump out of his skin, though he managed to kneel at her bedside and take one of her hands in his now sweaty palms. "Darlin'! Elinor, wot's wrong?"

Elinor moaned a response, to which the midwife and physicians began inspecting the queen. After a few skillful moments, the midwife gave a brisk nod, indicating something to the other's around her. "Wot?" asked the queen wearily, peering over her distended belly. "Wot's...wot's happenin'?"

The midwife began playing around with the bed sheets. "Yer baby is on the way, my queen," she murmured, instantly turning away and calling orders to her helpers.

Both royal's eyes stretched wide with alarm, though Elinor's looked as if they would nearly pop out of her skull. "My…my baby?" she managed to choke out, clenching her fists up into tight balls.

A calming smile crossed the midwife's face—it was obvious she knew the surprise and fear Elinor felt, considering the many failures her queen had suffered. "Indeed. Do not fret—et shall be over before you know et."

'Before you know it' turned out to be a sixteen hour wrestle with terribly excruciating pain. Fergus wiped Elinor's head with a cool rag and kissed her continuously on the cheek, murmuring words of comfort. "Yer doin' fine, m'dear." he would say, rubbing his thumb along her clammy palm. "Almost there."

"Ye said tha' seven hours ago, Fergus," she huffed, gripping his thumb as another wave shot through her.

"Breathe through this one," instructed the midwife.

The king furrowed his brows in concern, looking over at the midwife. "How much longer?" he demanded firmly.

The midwife sat down upon a stool at the end of Elinor's bed and checked her. "A matter of minutes."

Elinor's head turned to the side of her pillow. Her chest heaved with ragged gasps and tension gripped her. Her eyes slowly turned up to Fergus and looked at him tiredly. "Do you…" she began, gently tightening her grip on his thumb yet again. "Do you think I'm…ready tae 'ave a baby, Fergus?"

Fergus leaned in towards her, his eyes darkened by confusion. "Wot ever are ye goin' on about, Elinor? Of course ye are! Why would ye ever ask such a thin'?"

Her eyes closed and she shook her head slowly. "I...I don't know, Fergus," she sighed, fighting to keep tears from her eyes. "I jus'…I can't deal with any more disappointment. I jus'…_can't_."

He bowed his head, looking at the floor. "I know," Fergus murmured, closing his eyes as well. He gradually looked up and stroked her warm cheeks, letting a small smile of comfort cross his face. "But y'know wot? Look 'ow far we've come. We've gone from nothin' tae…tae _this_. Our baby is alive an' kickin', an' on et's way. An' ye know wot? Yer ready, Elinor. We both are."

Soon after, Elinor felt an intense pressure as the baby dropped into position, causing her to bear down. Fergus peered over and nearly fainted at the sight, but managed to regain his composer. "Eli! Oh, you should see et!" he gasped as he watched with wonder as his child began to show itself. "Yer doin' beautifully!"

She groaned in response and the midwife readied herself. The midwife glanced upward at her patient, and then to Fergus. "Bring her hand here," she instructed softly, though Fergus hesitated. In the end, he took her hand and placed it to where the baby was crowning.

Elinor abruptly jerked her hand away, staring in astonishment at Fergus and then the woman assisting her. "Is that…?" she gasped.

The midwife nodded. "Aye. Only a few moments now,"

Another contraction started and the baby eased out until the midwife's hands. Instantly, Elinor's head fell back into the pillows and her heart nearly stopped as the angelic cries of a newborn rang in her ears. "Et's a girl!" announced the midwife as she handed the girl to the physicians, who quickly dried off and cleaned the child before wrapping it in a comfortable bundle before handing it carefully off to their queen.

"Elinor!" gasped Fergus, placing a hand atop her shoulder and shaking her gently as the bundle approached. "Look, Elinor! Our baby! Our wee little lass!"

After a moment, Elinor raised her head somewhat from the pillow. She moved her hands outward as the child came in contact with her, still crying and wiggling within the confines of her blanket. "Come…come here, my wee lamb," she managed to choke out as she too began to sob, bringing the precious baby to her chest. "Mummy's got you. Mummy's right here."

Slowly, the newborn's mouth turned from one that possessed a wide wailing, to one pursed in wonder. Her hazy eyes blue began to focus on the adoring face that stared down upon her rosy, freckled face: her mother. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to light of the room and for the shape of her mother's face to become clear. Soon as she was able to see, she looked questioningly at the queen, as if trying to place her.

"That's yer mummy, m'wee darlin'," laughed Fergus, placing a hand to the back of her head. The child had a tiny mop of fiery red hair adorning her head, something she inherited from her father. "An'_ I_ am yer daddy."

The girl looked at him for a moment, babbling something incomprehensible to either of them. She once again turned back to her mother and stared at her with eyes widened. "Mumumu…" the girl muttered as she began to squirm in her blanket.

"Awww," laughed Elinor, raising the tiny being up towards her face. "Wot's the matter, lass?" She tenderly kissed the redhead upon the nose, causing the infant to cease her noises and movement. The queen pulled her head back and looked down at her daughter, feeling a sense of dread. She tensed up and waited for the child to begin crying, and nearly had a heart attack when the she began shrieking. But this shrieking was not of dismay or unhappiness—it was pleased and excited.

The queen pried open her eyes and stared down at the girl, whom was now babbling and wiggling in delight. Elinor sighed with relief and chuckled softly, moving a tendril of red hair from her baby's face. "Goodness, you gave me a fright,"

Fergus grinned, leaning his head gently against his wife's to admire their daughter. "Wot a feisty little thing. Get's tha' from you." He gave a brisk nod at his statement.

Elinor cast her glance up at you. "Is tha' so?" she questioned slyly, about to speak, taken aback when Fergus' lips crashed against hers. Her eyes popped in surprise, but she gradually melted into the tender show of affection.

Their lips slowly parted. "I'm so proud of you, Elinor," he breathed, moving a hand to her cheek and staring deep into her glistening eyes. "My magnificent, beautiful, perfect lass."

"Thank you, Fergus," Elinor whispered, leaning into his comforting palm. The couple turned gradually to their bright-eyed daughter, gazing down with adoration.

"Did you…did you 'ave any ideas fer names?" he inquired.

Elinor nodded and used a finger to trace the newborn's rounded face. "Well…aye. Considerin' et's a girl, I thought of…Merida?"

Fergus pursed his lips before nodding enthusiastically. "Heh, I like et! Unique and beautiful—like the two a' ye."

Smiling, the queen held her daughter close and poked her lightly upon the nose, causing their little girl to giggle with delight. "I think she likes et, as well." Elinor's brown eyes slowly leaked tears as she gazed upon her happy, healthy daughter. She finally had what she always wanted: a true family. In this moment, it was all coming together. Elinor truly believed, after so many instances of devastating failure, that she would experience this special feeling…and now she had. Elinor was determined to do whatever it took to be the best mother she possibly could for her child.

"I promise, my wee little Merida, I'll never let anythin' happen tae you." She gently brought Merida up to her face, tenderly kissing her upon the cheek. "I'll always be right here."

* * *

Back into reality, Fergus slowly approached Elinor in their room. Her hand covered her mouth to stifle the sobs she tried to choke back as the horrid memories of the past, as well as the positive ones, surrounded her.

"I...I can't let anythin' happen tae her, Fergus," she managed to breath, slowly turning towards him. "Not now…not ever."

Fergus looked at her with sorrow filling his eyes. He knew the pain she felt, and yet…he didn't know the half of it. He could never know the full pain of almost being a mother, and then loosing it all in an instant. "I know," His eyes slowly traveled upward to her solemn face as he approached her, taking her fragile hands in his. "An' nothin' will happen tae her, so long as you are at her side."

He took her gradually back to the side of the crib, allowing her to look down at the now sleeping bundle. Her coughs had gradually subsided and she had drifted away into slumber. Elinor's hand fell from Fergus' and she placed them gingerly upon the railing. Her forlorn gaze studied the reddened face of her sleeping daughter.

"Are you…certain, Fergus?" she breathed, prying her eyes away to stare longingly at her husband.

Fergus smiled assuringly and nodded. "Absolutely. She's strong an' feisty, m'dear. She'll fight through this wee cold like et's nothin'. We'll take her down tae the nurses first thing an' everythin' will be alright."

Elinor searched his eyes for some form of uncertainty, but was unable to find anything. Gradually, she let out a faint sigh of relief. "Al…alright." She leaned into his side as he placed a hand on her arm and drew her near in a comforting hold. Warm and safe, she pressed her head against his shoulder, looking down at her sleeping Merida.

Fergus was right—their baby would be fine. She was strong for her age, and this illness would breeze over with rest and care. Merida would rise as sunlight entered the room and grace her parents with an excited smile as she did each morning, and their daily routine would begin.

Elinor bent down slowly into the crib and gently pecked her on the cheek. "I love you, Merida." she whispered to the sleeping child. "I love you so much."


End file.
